Pour l'âme
by karis j anderson
Summary: He slices! He dices! He makes mountains of julienne fries faster than your Cuisinart! But what happens when he's not alone and has all of America watching him on tv? What about the snobby one that he can't seem to resist? Whatever is a vampire to do?
1. Chapter 1

_**So, this story's been rattling around in my head and on my computer for a while now. I haven't abandoned Bella is a Punk Rocker, but right now, those characters have chosen to take a vacation and we apparently aren't on speaking terms. I do intend to complete it, however. Little bits come to me and I'm working on both the last chapter and the epilogue.**_

_**But this little guy...this little guy is loud and wanting to get out. So...I decided to go with it. See where it wanted to take me...and this is it.**_

_**Business as usual: Twilight, its characters and situations, belong to Stephenie Meyer and no one else. Regardless of what I do to them here, they are still hers. And I wouldn't have it any other way.**_

_**Please enjoy a little food for the soul...**_

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_**Pour l'âme**_

**Chapter 1 ~ Recipe for Disaster**

The light rose softly behind the most famous skyline in the world, the reds and yellows enveloping the black outlined buildings as they slowly burned to life. As he had done every morning for the last six years, Edward Cullen took a moment to stop what he was doing and look out the big window, thankful for another day. From his small spot next to the Brooklyn Bridge, he had a perfect view of what he knew to be the greatest show on earth. He sat down at the small table for two and lifted the porcelain espresso cup to his lips, taking a sip. He closed his eyes, mumbling a prayer of gratitude to whatever god would listen to a vampire.

It hadn't always been like this for him. Oh no. At one point in his pathetic existence, he had wished for an end to it all. For it all to stop. But that was until he'd found his life's calling.

His father, Carlisle, had encouraged him to follow this path, as untraditional as it was. Carlisle Cullen, of all people, would know about untraditional paths. Edward was certain that his father, the most compassionate man he knew, was also most certainly the only vampire doctor in the world.

He watched the sun as it rose, until it blazed high in the sky, draining the small cup dry as he sat. Then he stood and stretched. It was an unnecessary thing for him to do, but somehow, it made him remember feeling human. And after one hundred and eight years as a vampire, feeling human was something refreshing for him.

He took his cup and made his way slowly around the tables dressed in crisp white linens that sat scattered around the small bistro, heading back into the smaller kitchen to finish his work. It was times like this that he was truly grateful for being a vampire. For the speed, the photographic memory, the stamina and the ability he had to read minds.

You see, Edward Cullen was the owner and Chef de Cuisine of the most popular little French bistro in the five boroughs of New York City. And he was the world's only _vampire_ Chef de Cuisine…or at least the only one who didn't serve _de l'homme_ on his menu.

His was a small operation. Edward himself prepared most of the meals. By the time his Sous-chef, saucier, tournant, garde manger and patissier arrived for their days work in early afternoon, Edward had most of the prep work done himself. His Sous-chef would often joke that Edward's chronic insomnia (which he claimed kept him up to all hours of the night and also accounted for his pale complexion as well as the dark circles often seen under his amber eyes) threatened to put him on the unemployment line. But, if there was one thing Carlisle Cullen had taught Edward well, it was the art of keeping up appearances. How else does someone not human hide in plain sight among humans?

Edward rinsed his cup out in the gleaming stainless steel sink, careful to make sure he left nothing behind. He then pulled a bunch of carrots from their bushel and in no time had them peeled and diced into perfect little squares, all the same size. Cuts were important, he knew. He proceeded to do the same with celery (after washing it carefully of course) and onions. While the pungent smell of the onions caused him to wrinkle his sensitive nose, he had to admit one thing: since he was a vampire, he didn't have to worry about crying while he cut them.

In a very short time, Edward had everything he needed to prepare done, including the dough for the evening's fresh bread set to rising. He wiped his hands off on his apron and looked around. With nothing left to do that couldn't be done by his small staff, he headed for a steep, narrow staircase at the back of the kitchen that led to the apartment upstairs. Edward took no chances. He owned the small brick building that _Pour l'âme_was in outright and used the large apartment upstairs as his own, the staircase leading too and from preventing him from being seen in the sunlight.

It wasn't that Edward didn't venture outside. In the pre~dawn mornings, he could be found driving his old battered pick up truck to the Fulton Fish Market and Hunts Point, bartering with the wholesalers for what his superior sense of smell told him was the freshest catch of the day and what his ability to read minds culled from the vendors were the most perfect vegetables. Only the choicest ingredients would satisfy him. But the little bistro had, over the last six years since he graduated from Johnson and Wales, become Edward's life. He lived and breathed his restaurant, from the moment he conceived the idea. He had always joked with his family that _Pour l'âme_was his surrogate child, as he'd never have one of his own. Dark humor, that was Edward.

He took his dirty apron off, tossing it into a laundry bag for the service to pick up and made his way up his narrow little staircase at human speed. Once in his beautifully decorated space (why shouldn't a vampire have the same creature comforts as a human?) he made his way into the bathroom, slowly removing his chef whites as he did. He ran the water until it was scalding hot, and stepped into his shower. The hot water turned to steam as it cascaded down his icy marble skin. He closed his eyes and sighed, lathering soap onto his perfectly sculpted body.

It was during this time, each day, that his thoughts turned to a vision his sister Alice had shown him, time and again. Alice, you see, had the gift of clairvoyance. Often, she would share her visions with her mind reading brother. This one in particular had stuck with him, most likely because she'd shared it with him many, many times. It was a vision that gave him hope, a vision that had saved him, ultimately leading him to this place in his existence. A place where he could say, if pressed, that he was, indeed, happy. Perhaps not blissfully so, but happy all the same.

Edward smiled as he toweled himself off, his body still buzzing from the warmth of the shower. This was his best time, his most human time. He pulled out his blow drier and worked on his bronze hair, trying in vain to achieve some semblance of order to the chaos that always reigned on top of his head.

He looked at himself in the mirror. He was handsome, far more handsome in his second life than he'd been in his first, if that was at all possible. Edward had always been a beautiful boy. And he knew from the looks both female and some male patrons gave him when he ventured into the dining room that the humans found him attractive. Of course they did. He was designed to lure his prey in, and, if he was being honest, humans _were _his natural prey.

But, just like the lion who laid down with the lamb, Carlisle Cullen had taught his family to value human life. Humans, he had said, were there to be loved and treated with respect, not dined on. So, Edward had opted to become a 'vegetarian', as his sister Alice had lovingly nicknamed the family lifestyle. Vegetarian as in, not feeding on humans. Instead, the Cullen family hunted and subsisted on animals, keeping themselves sated on the beasts so they could live and work among the humans without incident. It had worked too. In over three hundred years of existence, Carlisle had only tasted the human blood of the family members he himself had turned, and he'd only turned them when it was certain death itself would take them first if he didn't act. Of course, there had been a mishap or two along the way with the newer family members, but how could you fault someone for giving into their own true nature?

Edward, however, strived for perfection and accepted nothing less than that from himself, or from his staff. He tolerated the bumbling slow humans who worked for him because they were a necessary evil, he knew. It was bad enough that his brother Emmett tended bar in the bistro, and his sister Alice was his hostess. Any more vampires in the place and it would turn into one of those cartoon vampire bars he'd seen on those horrendous tv shows. Sure, from time to time Emmett's wife Rosalie would pop in. Even his mother Esme would show up. But for the most part, they kept a safe distance.

The only exception was Jasper, Alice's husband. Of all the Cullen's, Jasper suffered the most with his control issues. Better to stay away, he had said, than risk going crazy in a restaurant filled with paying customers. One slip from Jasper and Edward could kiss his four star rating goodbye, among other things. At least Jasper understood this and only came around after hours.

He heard the lock to the back entrance pop and smiled to himself as he yanked up a pair of black boxer briefs. The cotton scratched his smooth skin and he made a note to himself to buy a different laundry detergent. Yes, even vampires did laundry. He sighed and shook his head. His life had become so…normal. He buttoned his black pants and slid his arms into crisply starched chef whites, his name embroidered in black script over his left breast pocket, just under his Johnson and Wales patch. _Edward Cullen, Chef de cuisine. _With pride, he buttoned the little cloth buttons of his double breasted shirt swiftly and headed down the narrow staircase. Mike would be waiting for him.

"Fall asleep again?" Sandy haired and baby faced, Mike Newton was his sous~chef, and, admittedly, his best human friend. They had met at Johnson and Wales and had, for some reason, simply hit it off.

"For a little while," he lied. Every now and then, Edward would pick up little glimmers of alarm inside Mike's open book of a mind, but rarely did they form any cognizant thought. Mike genuinely liked Edward, and would push aside any thoughts that perhaps Edward wasn't exactly what he appeared to be in the name of their friendship. Mike considered Edward to be his very best friend. Edward could never express his appreciation verbally, so he expressed it through the kinship they shared. When Edward decided to open _Pour l'âme, _he could think of no one else to share his dream with other than Mike.

"I'm telling you, brother, you need to get some Ambien or something. This insomnia of yours isn't healthy." Mike was reading a page in a notebook that Edward would write the daily menu in each evening. "I admire your dedication and work ethic, but Eddie, it's not like I can't take on more of a work load." Mike was the only person who ever got away with calling him 'Eddie'.

"Mikey, how long have you known me?" Edward checked the dough that he had set to rising earlier and satisfied, rolled it from the bowl onto a floured surface and began punching it down.

"It will be ten years this coming September. And may I just say that you, my friend, have not aged a single day. You still look the same as you did Freshman year…well, except for the circles under your eyes."

"Oh, like you look your age?" Edward shot back. "Last time we went out, you're the one who got carded at the bar, buddy." He could see in Mike's mind that, while his friend found it unusual that Edward was still so youthful, he really didn't care to know the reason why. Edward was Edward and Edward was his friend.

"Hey, I almost forgot! You'll never guess who friended me this morning on FaceBook." Mike was now on to another subject, Edward's youthful good looks all but forgotten.

Although Edward knew the answer, because it was being screamed loudly from Mike's mind to his, he played along. "You're right. I'll never guess." He was pulling the dough he'd been manipulating into little balls by rounding the tops off and tucking the ends underneath so he was left with a smooth little round of dough. He then dropped them methodically into a pan.

"Jessica Stanley."

Edward stopped tugging on his dough and acted shocked. "You're kidding! After everything that happened she _friended_ you all these years later?"

"Yep. Can you believe the gall?" Mike was shaking his head as he expertly de-boned a chicken breast.

"So…did you accept the request?" Not that he didn't already know.

"Of course I did!" Mike snorted and laughed.

"Wow. I thought she never wanted to talk to you again as long as she lived. What did she do? Friend you from beyond the grave?"

"You're a sick fucker, you know that, Eddie?"

Edward smiled a broad, crooked smile. "So you keep telling me, Mikey. So you keep telling me, and yet, you still come to work every day."

"I only come here because if I didn't you'd be lost without me. I do it for you. Otherwise, you'd spend your time breaking up fights between your brother and sister instead of running your kitchen." He slid the bones aside and tossed the new cutlet into a pan with the others he'd made.

The back door opened with a squeak and Tyler, the pastry chef, came shuffling in.

"Hey Tyler," Mike called over his shoulder as Tyler tossed his messenger bag under his marble topped station across the kitchen from where Mike and Edward worked.

"Hey Mike. Edward." Tyler had an uneasy feeling when he was around Edward, but tried his best to hide it. Tyler's mind never failed to amuse Edward. Sometimes, he liked to sneak up behind Tyler and peek over his shoulder just to see what chaos spilled out of his head. Maybe Mike was right and Edward really was a sick fucker.

The trio set to work, preparing the food for the evening as the rest of the kitchen staff and the two bus boys trickled in. Suddenly, Edward's head shot up. What was this that Mike was even thinking?

"Hey, Eddie," he wiped his hands off on his apron. "You watch Food Network, don't you?"

"Food Network? Mike, I work with food all day long. Do you really think I watch food on tv when I'm not here?" Mike's thoughts were confusing him.

"That's what I thought. Hang on a minute." Mike disappeared into the tiny office off the kitchen that Edward only used during business hours. The rest of the time, he conducted business from his apartment above the bistro. Mike reappeared a moment later with a small black bag.

"Mike…what…what are you doing?" Edward's voice was filled with alarm as he saw what his friend was planning.

"Relax." Mike pulled a small video camera out of the bag.

"What are you doing with that?"

"Jesus, Edward, take it easy! It's only a camera."

"Mike, you know I don't like my picture taken."

"Yeah, I can tell by your wall of fame out there." Mike nodded his head in the direction of the dining room, referring to a wall of framed photographs next to the bar that contained pictures of Edward and various other restaurant staff with famous customers. Edward standing between President Clinton and Hillary. Emmett leaning over the bar and smiling into the camera with Alex Rodriguez. Edward with Derek Jeter. Alice gushing over Sarah Jessica Parker. Edward with Mayor Koch. Emmett with Derek Jeter. Alice with Eli Manning. Edward with Regis Philbin. Mike with Derek Jeter. Edward and Donald Trump. Edward with Mayor Giuliani. Edward with Robert DeNiro. The list went on and on. Anyone who was anyone in New York City had, at one point or another, dined at _Pour l'âme, _some more than others.

"Mike…" Edward's tone was warning him.

Mike ignored him and fiddled with the settings on the camera. Pointing it toward Edward, he smiled as he began to explain. "There's a show. It's a contest and the winner gets their own cooking show on the network."

"A contest for a show? What the hell would I do with a show, Mike?" Edward felt the panic rising in his chest.

"It'd be great exposure, Eddie."

"And who's going to run the restaurant while I'm gone? While I'm making this "show"?" Edward made quotes in the air with his fingers before crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"I will run the kitchen. Alice can manage the business side just fine, and you know she can, Eddie. Emmett, well, he's Emmett. And since this films right here in the greatest city in the world, it's not like I can't call you if I need you. I've thought this thing through, Eddie."

"I don't like this Mikey." Edward was shaking his head

"Look, Eddie, what are the odds you'll even get picked to be on the show, let alone win?"

"I have no idea. I've never even heard of this…this…show!"

"Well…I don't know the odds either, but I doubt they're in your favor. And anyway, imagine how good just being on the show would be for the business? For us?"

"Our business is thriving Mike. We don't need cheap parlor tricks to bring in customers." Edward was annoyed with his friend now and took his aggravation out on the spotless stainless steel counter in front of him, wiping it so hard with a dish rag that the metal bent under his hand.

"Eddie, just relax and talk into the camera." Mike pointed the camera across the counter at Edward, who stared wide eyed into it.

"Mikey, you're an amazing chef in your own right. Why don't you let me film you instead and you can enter the contest?" Edward held his hand out for the camera.

"Me? Jesus, Eddie. Have you even looked in a mirror lately? You think they'd put doughy, pasty _me_ on tv when they can have _you_?"

"That's not true, Mike" Edward shook his head. "You're a good looking guy"

"Uh…seriously, Eddie?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

"Of course you would. You'd say it to get me to stop trying to film you. Dude, how long do I know you?"

Edward let out a breath. This was one argument with his friend knew he wasn't going to win. Mike's mind was made up, and it would take nothing short of a miracle to change it. Sad thing was, he was sincere in his estimation that Edward's just being on the show would be good for business.

"Say something." Mike focused the camera on Edward.

"What should I say?" Edward's voice was soft, resigned.

"I don't know, Eddie. Just…talk. You're always a good talker."

"Well, you're running the show here, Mikey. What do you want me to talk about."

"Tell us how you got interested in cooking."

"You already know that story."

"I know, Eddie. I know the story…but they don't." Mike pulled his eye away from the viewfinder on the camera and looked at his friend. "Tell them," he whispered.

Edward leaned back against the counter and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he stared into the camera and began to speak in a low voice.

"My parents died when I was quite young. Since I had no other family, I was put up for adoption and was fortunate that the most amazing family claimed me for their own. The Cullen's loved me and nurtured me, making me believe that there was absolutely nothing I could not do if I set my mind to it. They made me into the person I am today. But, even with all the love my adoptive parents gave me, as I got older, I realized that, as hard as I tried, I was having great difficulties in remembering my family~my…my birth family. I was losing them." He looked down, pausing and swallowing hard before continuing, looking up from under his lush eyelashes. "Then, one day when I was sixteen, I was walking through the center of town. We lived in a small, dreary town in Washington state and the entire town was little more than three or four blocks long. There was one small café and I had never gone in there myself. Anyway, the weather was mild and for once it wasn't raining. They had the windows and door open to let the fresh air in. As I passed, the most amazing smell came wafting out of the place. And it almost knocked me off of my feet. I knew that smell. I remembered that smell. All at once, memories just assaulted me, one after the other. I saw myself sitting at the dining room table with my mother and father, having a Sunday evening meal, my mother's antique lace tablecloth glowing in the candle light. The sparkling crystal chandelier that hung over our table glinting in the dim light. I saw my mother in the kitchen, baking cookies while I snuck a taste of the dough behind her back, or so I thought. I saw my parents dancing with each other in the parlor while I stuffed a piece of rich chocolate cake into my mouth." He stopped and looked down again, the flood of emotion taking a toll on him. When he was able to look up again, his sad topaz eyes were moist, even though vampires can't cry. "When I was able to think, I ran into the café and found a tall, slender woman who worked there. I asked her what that heavenly aroma was. 'Beef Bourguignon', she said. And I remembered. I remembered that every Sunday my mother would make Beef Bourguignon for us for supper…and I wanted to learn how to make it so I never, ever lost my family again." He stopped then, and looked down at his hands, which had been twisting together in an attempt to stop them from trembling.

"People don't often realize the power that is our sense of smell. It is one of the strongest things to trigger memories," he went on, speaking in a hushed tone, looking directly into the camera. "Or the power of food, the power of the meal. The meal brings the family together to the table. Food unites us. It feeds us, body and soul. And every time I make Beef Bourguignon, it's like my mother is right there with me. It's like I never lost her." He looked up at the camera then, his golden eyes glistening from a million miles away. "And I'm never alone."

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_**Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. This won't necessarily be a 'cross over' with Food Network. Rather, Food Network is merely a vehicle for the story. It will be somewhat AU (obviously) and have a rather light tone. I do hope you enjoy it :) **_


	2. Chapter 2: PreHeat The Oven

**_So glad that you enjoyed the first chapter of this little story! It's going to be a little OOC, a little light and I do promise it will be B/E...there's just no B yet ;)_**

**_Down to business: Twilight, its characters and situations are all the intellectual property of one Stephenie Meyer. They belong to SM and SM alone (or SM and LittleBrown, however that copyright works) I'm just playing with them for fun. Fun, never profit._**

**_Please enjoy chapter 2 of Pour L'ame~_**

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**Chapter 2 ~ Preheat The Oven**

Several weeks had passed from the time Mike had made Edward bare his soul to the video camera, and Edward had all but forgotten about the entire issue. The summer had ended and the cool, crisp autumn weather had settled into the city, the leaves in the parks turning bright shades of yellow and orange and red.

Edward sat in his tiny office writing out payroll checks for the week. While he kept the books for the restaurant on his computer, he somehow preferred this outdated method of check writing to printing them off his computer. Perhaps this made him old fashioned, but, while his body had stopped aging at seventeen, the age he was when Carlisle had changed him in 1918, if you wanted to get technical about it, he was, indeed, old fashioned.

The phone on his desk rang, startling him. He stared at it while it rang for a second time, and picked it up before it rang for a third time. His phone rarely rang at this time of day. Perhaps it was an employee calling in sick? Or a supplier? Or one of those annoying as hell 'surveys' that you could never get rid of?

"_Pour l'âme_. How may I help you?"

"Hello, I'd like to speak with Edward Cullen, please." The woman's voice on the other end of the line was strong and confident.

"This is Edward Cullen."

"Edward! This is Leah Clearwater from the Food Network. Several weeks ago you submitted an audition tape for The Next Food Network Star. I have to tell you, we really liked what we saw."

Panic gripped his body, and his hand gripped the edge of his dark wood desk tightly, pulverizing the wood beneath his fingertips. His breath came in deep gasps.

"Edward? Hello?"

_Say something you idiot!_

"Yes, yes I'm here. I was…I…I was…I'm…" He stuttered. Perhaps now, after hearing how nervous he was simply talking on the phone, they would decided he wasn't right for the show. "I…uh…I'm sorry, I was in the middle of working on my books."

"Oh, no problem, Edward." The woman's cheerful voice kept saying his name and he wished it would stop. "People are usually very surprised when they receive the call from us."

"Uh huh." That was all he could muster.

"Anyway, the executives here were quite impressed and very moved by your heartfelt and emotional audition tape. They would like to meet with you for an in person interview before they set the final cast."

"Um…an…an…interview?" He swallowed hard and chastised himself for sounding like a first class idiot.

"Yes, an in person interview. I see that you live right here, in Brooklyn. We're down in Chelsea. When would you be available to come in for the interview?" Leah was persistent in her quest and perpetually cheery, he noticed.

"I...ah...I…well…I…I…I run this restaurant and, um…I'm, well, I'm kind of busy…"

"How about Monday morning at ten? We've noted that your restaurant is closed on Mondays, so we thought that would be an ideal opportunity for you."

Just his luck. _Pour l'âme _was closed on Mondays. And she knew it. She probably found that stupid website that Jasper had created for him. He knew that was a mistake, and now he was proven right. Now he had no excuse not to go meet with the executives. He sighed to himself.

"Uh…sure. Ten on Monday morning is fine."

Edward balled his hand into a fist. When he got off the phone, he was going to go into the kitchen and kill Mike Newton dead.

But instead of taking a sharp butcher knife to his best friend, he took a few deep breaths and called his father.

"Carlisle?"

"Edward, what's wrong?" Carlisle could sense from his son's voice that he was troubled.

"I…I have a problem. Can I come over to the house to speak with you?"

"Edward, you know you can come over whenever you wish to. Just because you don't live here anymore doesn't mean you have to ask. You don't need permission or an invitation to come here. This is your home. And, by the way, your mother wishes you would do so more often. You know, we're not a traditional family that has Sunday family dinners. She misses you."

"Tell Esme I'm sorry."

"You tell her when you come. When will you be here?"

"I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Edward, the last time you tried to get here in twenty minutes, you got a speeding ticket."

Edward smiled at the memory. "My first ever."

"How did you not know that cop was going to stop you?"

"Oh, he wasn't. He didn't decide to give me a ticket until he lost the guy he was really after in traffic. I was nothing more than an after thought."

"Just the same, be careful on that drive up here. You got out of _that_ ticket, but you might not be so lucky the next time. And a speeding conviction means points on your license and an increase in your insurance."

"Yes, Carlisle." Edward rolled his eyes. It couldn't have been worse if he were human.

Carlisle and Esme Cullen lived on a lush estate in upscale Greenwich, Connecticut, a good forty five minute drive door to door from Edward's…unless you hit typical New York City traffic…unless, of course, you were Edward Cullen. Edward liked to drive fast…traffic or not.

He navigated his shiny silver Volvo north up I-95, weaving in and out of the early afternoon traffic. Was there ever _no traffic_ here? He mulled that over, while trying to decide the best way to tell his father he'd managed to get himself into a situation that could potentially cause his family a great deal of difficulty within the vampire community.

He got off the interstate at exit 3 in Connecticut, and zipped quickly down quiet residential streets, finally following a long, winding stone wall down a particularly quiet winding lane and, making a sharp left hand turn, pulled into a short, nearly hidden driveway, slowing down only to allow the automatic gates to open for him. He zoomed up the narrow, twisting gravel drive, coming to a quick, skidding stop in front of the massive white Georgian mansion.

Carlisle and Esme had moved to Greenwich when it became apparent that Edward was hell bent on opening his restaurant in sunny Brooklyn. Not dismal Forks, Washington or overcast Rochester, New York. Oh no. Not Edward. Edward had to be in the culinary capital of the country. So, Carlisle and Esme followed their son. In turn, they were followed by their other children. Now, the entire Cullen family lived in the New York tri-state region.

Carlisle and Esme were swaying gently on the porch swing, fingers entwined, enjoying the crisp autumn air while awaiting their son's arrival. While they'd been married for many decades, every day still felt like the first day they realized they were in love. Esme's caramel colored hair bellowed gently in the soft breeze. She looked up at her husband through her eyelashes, his amber eyes burning intensely for her.

Edward hopped out of the Volvo, still clad in his chef whites, and ran up the front steps to the large wrap around porch, taking them two at a time.

"My goodness, Edward!" Esme watched as her son came to a breathless stop in front of where they sat. "What could possibly be so urgent?

"I think I may inadvertently out us."

"Excuse me?" Carlisle shook his head, not understanding what Edward had said.

"I think~"

"Edward, please sit down and take a few breaths. Calm yourself down so we can understand what you're talking about." Carlisle pointed to a wicker rocking chair across from the swing.

Nodding, Edward took a seat, scooting the chair a little closer to where his parents sat. He was well aware that Carlisle thought he'd somehow lost his mind.

"Ok, now, start from the beginning. And please…calmly."

"Yes, sir." While Carlisle and Esme weren't really his parents, he did have a very parental relationship with them, and gave them nothing but his utmost respect. Respect they deserved, as well as his deferral to them as parental figures.

When he'd managed to calm himself sufficiently, Edward began~from the beginning, as Carlisle had requested.

"Ok. A few weeks ago, Mike came into the kitchen with a video camera."

"Ok? You find this troubling? It's not like in myths, sweetie. You'll photograph. I promise." Esme smirked, leaning into a chuckling Carlisle as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, smiling at her humor.

"I know that, Esm~er~Mom," Edward rolled his eyes. "But the video was an audition tape for a television show."

"A television show? How did Michael get mixed up with a television show?" Carlisle looked curious.

"He's not mixed up with it, well, not exactly. See, there's this cable network that apparently is all food shows. Like, cooking shows…or…something. Chefs. On tv. Making food." Edward closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"You mean Food Network?"

His eyes popped open wide and he stared at his parents. "You…you've heard of it?"

"Heard of it? Why, your mother has it on most of the day!" Carlisle chuckled softly, kissing the top of Esme's head as she pushed him away teasingly.

"Honestly, Edward! You're a _chef_. How can you _not _know Food Network?"

"I…I…don't watch much television." He cast his eyes down, staring at his feet clad in comfortable black Crocs…part of his human costume. He wouldn't dare tell them that when he did watch television to unwind at the end of his long day, he watched Adult Swim on Cartoon Network. That would be too embarrassing.

"Still…you've never seen Food Network?" Carlisle was surprised. "Do you know who Bobby Flay is?"

"Of course I do!" Edward was indignant. Food was his business. His passion. How would he _not_ know a chef like Flay? Or any other chef with a popular restaurant in New York City for that matter?

Carlisle let go of his wife and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "But…how do you know him?"

"He owns Mesa Grill and Bar Americain."

"He also hosts several shows on Food Network." There was a smile on Carlisle's lips.

"He...does?" His brows furrowed together.

"He's an Iron Chef." Esme nodded.

"I…I have no idea what that even is." Edward closed his eyes and shook his head, frowning. What were _vampires_ doing watching human cooking shows anyway?

"I'm guessing you also have no idea who Paula Deen or Guy Fieri are then, do you son?"

Edward looked down. Were he able to blush, he was certain his face would be cherry red right to the tips of his ears.

"So…anyway, go on with your story." Carlisle sat back, crossing his legs.

"Where was I?" He asked, even though he knew exactly where he was.

"You were explaining to us what Food Network was."

"Yeah. Well, since you know it, then you must know that they have a contest to win a show."

"Edward…are you trying to say that Mike made a video of you for The Next Food Network Star?" Carlisle suddenly sat straight upright, not nearly as amused by his son as he had been.

"Yes, Carlisle. That's what I'm trying to say. I just got a call from the network. The executives want to interview me before making the final casting decisions. On Monday."

"Oh how exciting!" Esme clapped her hands together. "My baby will be on TV! I can't wait to tell my garden club!" Edward rolled his eyes. Ever since they began living as a 'family', Esme Cullen had labored under the delusion that not only was she the 'normal' suburban house wife of a 'normal' doctor, but that she'd actually given birth to all of her 'children'.

"Carlisle?"

Carlisle bit his lower lip. "I can understand why you've come here with such great concern, Edward. And I thank you for being so responsible."

"Honestly, Carlisle, I'd all but forgotten about it. Then this morning, that call came out of the blue."

"Do you think they'll pick you?"

"What do you think?"

"I think that, once you're in there, the executives will naturally be dazzled by you and you'll be cast."

"Exactly, Carlisle. But…how do I back out? Should I just blow off the interview?"

"This was all Mike's idea, right?"

"Yeah. Who else would come up with something like this?" Edward shook his head. Surely Carlisle knew him well enough to know that Edward liked to live in the background. His whole life had been lived just outside the spotlight, his life a conscious decision to work behind the scenes. The spotlight was more for Alice and Emmett, not him.

Carlisle nodded. "Well, Edward, I think Mike did this for you as a friend. He obviously thought that you'd be good on this show and that it would be good for the restaurant. You've seen inside his mind. You know he's completely loyal to you. To blow off the interview would be insulting to him."

"But there's no possible way I won't be cast, Carlisle. And if that happens, what do you think the Volturi will do?" The Volturi were the ruling family of the nation of vampires. While not a formal 'royal' family like the Windsors or Grimaldi's, they were, none the less, vampiric royalty and made all the laws that vampires world wide lived under…or faced severe consequences for breaking. Yes…vampires have laws.

"Well, if you're cast, I guess we'll have to pay our old friend Aro a little visit."

"I love Italy in the fall. We can turn it into a family vacation, Darling." Esme took Carlisle's hand. He smiled, raising their hands to his lips and kissing the back of hers gently.

"How do you think he'll react?" Edward ignored his parent's nauseating public display of affection.

"Well, it's hard to say. We didn't' expect him to be nearly as excited about you opening the restaurant as he was, so who knows?"

"That's true." Edward nodded. Aro, while menacing and cold hearted by nature, could be excited and child like when something struck his fancy. He was very hard to read, even though Edward had no trouble reading his mind…or the minds of his two brothers who ruled jointly with him. Marcus was seemingly over the whole thing. He was perpetually bored and distracted by any of the proceedings brought forth before them. Meanwhile, Caius was the exact opposite. He demanded, but rarely got, maximum sentences imposed for even the mildest of infractions. Edward had no doubts that Caius would demand he be executed for even suggesting he go on a television show.

"I suggest you go to the interview on Monday. If you're cast, we'll take it to Aro. If he says no, then we will figure out a way for you to bow out gracefully. A family emergency, perhaps. That way, it won't look like you didn't move forward with Mike's plans and you won't hurt him in any way."

Edward thought for a moment before he nodded. "I think that sounds like a plan. It will be easy to fake some sort of emergency. Go away for a few days so Mike doesn't suspect I'm bluffing."

"That's it exactly." Carlisle smiled and wrapped his arm around Esme, pulling her tightly to his chest.

"Thank's Carlisle." Edward stood. "I'll talk to you Monday, after the interview."

"Good luck." Carlisle smiled.

"Thanks." Edward nodded and turned to leave. He paused on the top porch step and turned to Carlisle. "Of course, you do realize that if I am cast and Aro says it's ok to go through with this whole thing, I'm going to do my very best to win." He flashed his crooked grin.

"I would not expect anything less from you, Edward." Carlisle's smile was proud.

Edward turned and headed down the steps.

"Sweetie, where are you going?" Esme sat up, suddenly alarmed.

Edward turned, startled. "I…I'm going home?"

"But you just got here! We see you so rarely these days! Stay for coffee!"

Edward looked at the two vampires sitting on the swing. Carlisle shrugged his shoulders, effectively removing himself from the conversation completely.

Edward sighed. "Esme…Mom…we…we're vampires. We don't drink coffee." His voice was soft, hiding his exasperation with Esme. Why did Carlisle indulge her fantasy like he did?

"You can't stay a little while and take a few sips of coffee for your mother?" The disappointment showed on her face.

Edward groaned. If he wasn't completely certain it couldn't happen, he would swear Esme was hormonal or menopausal or...both. He sighed and went back to the wicker rocker he'd been sitting in. Esme clapped her hands and bounced out of the swing, running into the house.

"Cream and sugar?" She called from the hallway.

"Uh…black, please." Edward looked at his father who rolled his eyes and thought _'humor her'._

"I don't have to. You do that enough for all of us." He crossed his legs and looked at his watch.

"Edward, your brothers an sisters humor her. You're the only one who still calls her Esme instead of Mom. You know how much having children means to her, how much love she has to give. Is it so hard to do this one little thing for her?" Carlisle leaned back and began to glide gently on the swing. "After all, she's the one who made us all follow you to New York."

"But you didn't have to. I didn't ask any of you for help. Did I?"

"No, you didn't. But, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, Edward, we are a family, and families help each other out."

"I know we are. It's just…it's…it's still hard, you know? It's been over a hundred years and sometimes I can't help thinking about her." Edward's eyes were far off and sad, distant memories playing out in his mind.

"I know it is, son." Carlisle's voice was gentle. "I can't tell you it ever gets much better. It's probably the reason why most of our human memories escape us when we are turned. But we have to play the hand we are dealt in this life. Be thankful that you are surrounded with people who love you almost as much as Elizabeth and Edward did."

"I am, Carlisle. Believe me, if not for you and Es…Mom…and the others, I never would have made it this far." He looked into Carlisle's eyes. "And I do cherish each of you."

"As we do you, son."

The two men sat in silence for a moment, nothing but bird song surrounding them. Then Edward took a deep breath.

"Carlisle?"

"Yes, Edward?"

"If the child had lived…would you…could you…have?" He did not look at his father.

Carlisle sighed heavily. "Immortal children are absolutely forbidden, Edward. You know that."

"I do, and that's not an answer to my question."

Carlisle looked away from Edward, fiddling with the cuff link on his shirt sleeve.

"Carlisle? You're blocking me."

"For her," his voice was soft, "anything. Even that, were it possible."

Edward nodded his understanding. It made no sense to him, this need that Esme had to mother, to lavish love and affection on a small creature. He felt sure that, even if he were still human, he could live his life without a child.

They said no more, and shortly Esme slipped gracefully out of the screen door carrying a huge wicker tray laden with a coffee carafe, cups, saucers and a plate of cookies.

"I got these in that bakery on the Avenue. You know the one? St. Moritz? You loved the chocolate mousse cake I got there for Rosalie's last birthday, remember Edward?" She placed the tray down on the little wicker table that sat between Edward's rocker and Carlisle's porch swing, offering the plate of cookies to Edward first . "The ones with the almonds are particularly delicate. Lots of butter."

Edward remembered Rosalie's last birthday very well. Each of them was made to eat the chocolate mousse cake Esme had presented Rose with after the candles were blown out. It tasted like cardboard in a vampire's mouth, and the coffee he washed his down with had to taste like motor oil, he was quite certain.

"Thanks, Mom." He picked out one of the cookies she had mentioned, and held it up to show her. "I'll try one."

She smiled brightly. "That's my boy! Let me get you a cup of coffee. I know you sometimes like to dunk!"

Edward exchanged glances with Carlisle, who daintily chose a cookie with a candied cherry on top. They would go into the woods later and take care of things, he was sure.

* * *

**_Hope that you enjoyed that! As you now know, this story will be dealing with the FoodNetwork show Next Food Network Star (I'd call it a crossover, but it's not really a true crossover~at least I don't think it is, because FN & it's players are a very minor part of the story, basically just used to facilitate the Twilight story) As I've stated, some characters will be somewhat OOC...and there's some fun to be had in that, right? ;)_**

**_Thanks again for reading!_**


	3. Chapter 3: In a Large Bowl

**_Ok, here's what: I received my Food Network Magazine shortly after I began posting Pour l'ame and inside was an article about this seasons Next Food Network Star…and the changes made for this season. Ut Oh… So…I waited. Would I need to change the story? Could I change the story? So, when the new season premiered~I watched it and was…underwhelmed. Contestants now work in 'teams' that are captained by Giada, Alton and Bobby. IF I changed to this format, I would have to rewrite most of the story and, as the season is on NOW, my ignorance of the new 'rules' and challenges would make updating quite the challenge. So, I made an executive decision: I was leaving Pour l'ame as it was intended to be~before this seasons changes. _**

**_Also, I'd just like to point out that this was not the only creative license that I took to make this story happen. I also have NO idea what the casting process of the show is. I know that FoodNetwork had something on last weekend about casting the show, but I was unable to watch it. Therefore, the casting process that I present in this story is more than likely not very correct. However, if we can suspend belief to accept that an animal eating 107 year old vampire virgin can fall in love with a non descript girl…we can believe my version of the casting right?_**

**_Business: Twilight, its characters and situations belong to no one else but Stephenie Meyer. I'm just doing this for fun ;)_**

**_Thank you for reading and please enjoy~_**

* * *

**Chapter 3 ~ In a Large Bowl…**

Edward walked hesitantly into the Chelsea Market, where the corporate offices of Food Network were located and where he would have his face to face interview with the Powers That Be. He was immediately assaulted by the smells coming from a multitude of different food vendors inhabiting the market. Chocolates, Italian food, deli meats, fish, cheeses, breads, spices. Every scent imaginable was represented in the two block long complex. His nose crinkled from the onslaught of offensive odors mingling with the scent of humans and their blood as he fought the urge to flee. He doubted anyone in his family would fault him if he did. Except for Esme, who was probably at that very moment bragging about her handsome son becoming a tv star. And Alice, who was waiting to go shopping for his television wardrobe. And Emmet who thought Edward's being on tv would help him get 'babes'. Carlisle would be fine with whatever decision he would make, since Carlisle was only concerned with Edward's ultimate happiness. Jasper might hit him with some good natured ribbing about chickening out, but he knew for certain that Rosalie would call him a coward. She would call him coward loudly and often. It was not the disappointment that the others would feel that drove him toward the elevator. It was him not wanting to give Rosalie the opportunity to call him chicken and cluck at him (he knew she would) that forced him onward, toward the large, round green sign that proclaimed FOOD NETWORK. He pushed the button and waited for the elevator.

He had agonized over what to wear for this interview. Did he want to wear a suit and look stuffy and stuck up but professional? Would jeans be too casual…like he didn't really care? He had Googled the heck out of the show, and had seen what other contestants had worn, but he knew he wanted to be true to himself. Cargo shorts and sneakers were most definitely not appropriate attire for a man born in 1901.

Mike had just rolled his eyes at his friend's indecision as he sat on the sleek brown leather sofa in Edward's living room, waiting for him to get ready for the interview.

"We're not women, Eddie. We're guys. We just wear something. Anything. As long as it's clean." He stuffed a piece of a gooey cinnamon bun in his mouth. "Hey, did you eat any breakfast?" He chewed as he spoke.

"No." Edward came out of the bedroom buttoning the cuff of a crisply pressed blue Oxford broadcloth shirt that was tucked into equally crisp khakis. Rich brown leather loafers adorned his feet. "I can't eat. My stomach is in knots." It wasn't a lie, really. Fact was, he couldn't eat…human food. And his stomach? It _was_ in knots. He wished he were human and could take a nice Bromo-Seltzer. That would settle things down nicely. He remembered having tummy ache as a boy from eating too much of his mother's cake. His mother would run her fingers through is wayward hair and kiss his forehead, giving him a glass filled with the fizzy drink. _Drink the whole glass, Edward. It will make you all better._ He would drink it all down and it was true. He always felt better afterward. In retrospect, he couldn't be sure if it had been the Bromo-Seltzer that had made him feel better, or his mother's gentle touch. At that moment, he longed for his mother's touch, but would take the Bromo-Seltzer. Did they even make Bromo-Seltzer anymore?

"Here," Mike handed a tall paper cup to him. "I got you a coffee on my way over. Black, the way you like it. At least sip some of that so you have something in your stomach and you don't get a headache or something."

Thanking him, Edward took the cup and took a small sip, trying hard not to scrunch his face up at the vile taste. Why did it seem he was always being made to drink coffee? In this case, though, he knew that it was part of the things he did in the name of their friendship. He also knew Mike was rolling his eyes at him, laughing to himself because Mike, who had nothing but faith in Edward, was certain that Edward was a lock for this show.

"How's this look?" Edward stood up straight in front of Mike.

"You look stunning, really. So elegant and lady like. It's been quite a fashion show." Mike snorted at his own joke. "Nah, I think that's fine. That stick up your ass isn't quite so visible."

"Fuck you." Edward took another sip of his coffee before putting the cup down. It was funny to him. In all of his years of existence he had been nothing but a gentleman, rarely, if ever uttering a foul word. All it had taken for him to become what he was sure, in his human mother's estimation was a foul mouthed frat boy, was the friendship of Mike Newton. "I figure I'll wear a jacket with it and it'll look ok. I won't look too stuffy and I won't look like I don't give a crap."

"You look fine, Eddie. Just relax. You're a lock for this. I'm sure of it."

"That's easy for you to say. You get to stay here and wait for me to report back. I'm the one who's facing the firing squad."

"You don't know that. Maybe they just want to see you in person to tell you that you're in."

"You live in fantasy land, don't you?"

"You'll be fine. You're tall and good looking. On tv, that's half the battle. Plus, I've seen you in action. You'll be a natural."

"I guess. I hope. I mean, this was all your idea, not mine."

"You didn't even know that there was a network dedicated to cooking, Eddie."

"Because I'm, you know…" Edward frowned at his reflection in the mirror over his mantle. He pulled at his unruly hair.

"Stupid?"

"I was going to say busy, you prick." He glared at his grinning friend.

"Dude, you need to chill. Besides, they probably just want you to expand on your show idea or something." Mike took a big gulp of his coffee.

"Sure. What was the name you came up with for this…this hypothetical show again?"

"I was thinking, maybe _For the Soul_, like the restaurant, except in English."

"And our premise? We have to have the premise for a show, right?"

"Yeah. On the application, I said it was comforting food to feed the body and soul."

"So, good food that makes you feel good inside and out?"

"Sure, if you prefer. I mean, I'm sure they have professionals to, you know, flesh out the show ideas and stuff."

"What kind of food would I be cooking? I mean, on this hypothetical show of yours?"

"Basically, stuff like we do here. You know, comfort foods but with a twist."

"A twist? We don't have a twist, Mikey."

"Yeah, we do, Eddie. We make mac and cheese here, right?"

"Yes, we have macaroni and cheese." Edward looked at his friend, skepticism on his face.

"Normal people make it with cheddar or Velveeta. But we make it here with Gruyere instead. And sometimes, we put lobster in it. Maybe truffle oil."

"Velveeta? Who uses Velveeta? That's not even real cheese. Disgusting." Edward picked the cup of coffee up again and took a small sip. He couldn't believe anyone really ate Velveeta. Edward, the vampire who didn't eat human food, was, indeed, a human food snob.

"Normal people use Velveeta, Eddie. Don't be such a food snob."

Edward groaned his displeasure at being called a food snob.

"My mom used to make her mac and cheese with Velveeta until Dad's cholesterol went off the charts."

"No offense, but that's just disgusting, Mikey." Edward wrinkled his nose. As if the thought of regular cheese wasn't disgusting enough to a vampire, the very idea of using a processed cheese in his macaroni and cheese was beyond that. He might not eat the food or like some of the smells, but nothing but the best ingredients went into anything Edward Cullen presented in his restaurant. "And stop calling me a food snob."

"Velveeta's not so bad, really. But yours is better, my friend. Just don't tell my mom I said that." Mike popped more of the big cinnamon bun into his mouth, holding out the rest of the sticky sweet pastry to Edward. "Want some?"

"Nah. I can't eat." He waved the offer away casually.

Edward scratched at a non-existent itch on his arm. His nerves were getting the better of him. He went back into his bedroom and returned, shrugging on a soft, brown tweed sport coat.

"How's this?"

Mike looked at his friend. Edward was all piercing topaz eyes, high cheekbones and tousled bronze hair. His red lips were perfect. He knew what women thought about when they looked at Edward Cullen. At least what they thought according to Jessica Stanley.

"You look like a Ralph Lauren Christmas ad."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Depends. Are the execs women?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"I dunno. I figured maybe they told you who you were meeting with. Look, if it's the judges from the show themselves, then it's a gray haired guy named Bob who's like, a big VP of programming or something, and this curly haired woman who I'm sure you'll dazzle like you dazzle every other woman you meet."

"I don't dazzle women." Edward grumbled as he looked into the wide mirror over his fireplace mantle, fixing the collar of his jacket.

"Two words, bro: Jessica Stanley."

The two friends snorted at the mention of the legendary Ms. Stanley and Edward's nerves began to settle a little.

The nerves reappeared in the elevator the second the doors closed and he was on his way up to the meeting. Were it possible, he knew he would be sweating like a pig. The elevator dinged and the doors opened into a comfortable, reception area decorated in red hues accented by low ambient lighting. Even though he felt as though he would throw up if he had that ability, Edward strode with self assurance over to the reception desk where a mousy brunette sat staring blankly at a computer monitor. Edward could see that her mind lay elsewhere, work the least of her concerns.

He leaned over the desk, oozing confidence and sex appeal.

"Hello," his velvety voice cooed. "My name is Edward Cullen. Leah Clearwater set up an appointment for me at ten this morning regarding Next Food Network Star?"

The receptionist looked up and stared at him, mouth hanging open. Edward smiled to himself, knowing exactly what she was thinking…and how it differed from what she had been thinking when he'd walked up to the desk.

Finally, he began to feel uncomfortable with the receptionist, whom he'd learned was named Shelly, gaping at him, Edward looked away and the receptionist shook her head, breaking herself free from the spell that was Edward Cullen.

"Y-yes…Mr. Cullen." She blinked her eyes as though she had woken from a trance and Edward continued to look away from her. It was the least he could do to allow the poor thing to do her job without being…dazzled. "I'll call and let her know you're here. Please, have a seat."

He smiled and thanked her, moving stiffly toward the seating area in front of the desk. The nerves were back as he sat down on a sleek, red, modern square sofa and crossed his legs, trying not to bob his foot nervously as he sat. In an attempt to distract himself, he grabbed a magazine from the table. Just his luck: Food Network Magazine. He flipped casually through it, noticing names and faces he'd recognized. Since his conversation with Leah Clearwater, he'd spent as many hours as he could watching the network to familiarize himself with it. He'd even read through their website and their Wikipedia page. He was pretty sure he knew most of the shows and personalities that aired on it. If pressed to choose a favorite, he knew exactly what he would say. He enjoyed Guy Fieri's shows as well as Dinner: Impossible. He chose Fieri because he was a past winner of the same contest that Edward was interviewing for. He could never admit that he found several of their hosts to have voices and attitudes that grated on his nerves. He was aware that there were certain on-air personalities who seemed to be network favorites, Mr. Fieri being one, and yet he hoped that in choosing Fieri he didn't offend anyone. He also knew that, with his gift, he could casually segue his way out of any hole he'd dug himself into.

He had immersed himself in a small pull out within the magazine that he found interesting that detailed easy recipes for fifty salad dressings when he became aware of Leah Clearwater approaching.

_I hope he's as good looking in person as he is in that video. Holy crap just watching him talk made me squirm in my chair. That voice! That hair! Dammit. I need to get laid in the worst way! _

Edward swallowed hard and tried to keep his nose in the magazine as a large dark wood door to the left of the reception desk opened and a tall, slender woman wearing black slacks and a white silk blouse walked out. The white blouse accentuated her deep bronze tan, the gold chains around her neck glistened in the low lighting. Her straight black hair was cropped to hang just below her jaw, setting off her high cheekbones and wide, dark eyes. She was exotic in her beauty.

_Holy shit! He's even more gorgeous in person! I wonder if it would be ok with Bob for me to ask him out if they don't cast him? I bet he's fucktastick in bed! Hell, even if he is cast I want to ask him out! I'll probably have to fight off horny bitches left and right, but damn it, I saw him first and I claim you, Edward Cullen, as my own!_

Edward shifted on the sofa, uncomfortable with her inner dialogue and the idea that he could actually picture being in bed with her himself. Or was he just taking the visuals inside of her head and making them his own?

"Edward?"

He looked up, pretending to be surprised by her presence. She approached him with her right hand extended. He stood up, dropping the magazine onto the side table and took a step in her direction, taking her warm hand in his. He could feel the quickening of her pulse.

"Yes. Miss Clearwater?"

"Yep. That's me." She smiled a little too broadly at him, her teeth impossibly white. He was suddenly nervous as her thoughts about him spewed forth from her head. _Wow! The closer I get, the hotter he looks! This guy's got a body! I bet he looks even better naked! And that hair! I want to grab hold of it as he's…_

Edward looked away, scratching the back of his neck nervously. It wasn't the first time he'd heard thoughts like this. But Leah Clearwater's thoughts all but screamed at him. She was a very loud broadcaster.

"Are you ready?" Her voice held a note of excitement.

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled crookedly, trying to look like he was excited to be there.

"Oh, please, just call me Leah." Of course, in her mind, she was seeing Edward _screaming_ her name in ecstasy as her fingers twisted around his mussed copper hair. She was pretty obsessed with his hair, he noticed. Edward closed his eyes, trying to clear the image that she'd conjured up from his head, grateful that he couldn't blush.

"Come this way." She led him back to the doors that she had come through. She grabbed the handle and opened the door wide, motioning for him to walk through. "You'll be meeting with Bob, Susie, Bobby and Giada today. Don't let any of them intimidate you. I know for a fact that you are the odds on favorite right now." She turned and smiled over her shoulder at him as she led him through what looked like a normal corporate office, with cubicles everywhere and one side of the wall lined with glass walled private offices.. He swallowed hard. Now, in her mind, she had him bending her over a butcher block kitchen counter as pans sizzled on a nearby stovetop.

"I bet you say that to all the potential contestants." His crooked smile and charm were turned on as much as Leah Clearwater was, and he found himself wishing he had control over both.

She let out a too loud laugh, a laugh better suited for happy hour at the local bar than on an early Monday morning in an office. "I'm being honest, Edward. Don't say anything, though. They'll have my head on a skewer and roasting over an open fire if they found out I told you that." Her thoughts turned to Edward being cast and, ever grateful to Leah Clearwater for her honesty with him, fulfilled her every fantasy…in bed.

"As long as they marinade you first." His topaz eyes flashed at her. What could he do? Charm was part of his vampiric make up.

"Oh my God that is such a chef joke! A bad chef joke!" Her laugh echoed through the narrow hallway that she had turned down, leading him past a row of larger offices with big tables in them. Conference rooms, Edward knew. "But no, seriously. Don't say anything to them. They like to maintain an air of mystery. They're the masters of you and your future, Edward Cullen!"

"You're secret's safe with me." He grinned, seeing her idea of mastering him play out in graphic detail inside her head. She was right, he thought. She really did need to get laid.

They stopped in front of the largest of the glass walled conference rooms they'd passed. Edward could see the four people inside talking as they looked over papers that they had spread out in front of them. A flat screen television mounted on the wall played the audition tape that Mike had shot.

They were talking about him.


	4. Chapter 4: Combine the Dry Ingredients

**_Ok, finally got my act together and got the next chapter together. Sorry for the delay...been a trying few weeks with doctor visits, root canals and migraines. Fun times._**

**_Anyway, a couple of notes:_**

**_First off, I have NO idea what the actual casting process for Next Food Network Star is. I do, however, know that the judges don't meet the contestants until the very first challenge...which I found out yesterday when Food Network Magazine arrived in my mailbox and I read the Q & A with Bob. That said, I decided to continue to take artistic license and keep this chapter as written, particularly since I don't know the actual particulars. _**

**_Secondly, remember when I said this story was going to get OOC? Well...yeah._**

**_Third, I do not own Twilight, it's characters or situations. Stephenie Meyer does. I'm just grateful that she continues to let us play in her sandbox. _**

**_Forth...please enjoy the latest installment...and thank you for your continued support :) _**

* * *

**Chapter 4 ~ Combine the dry ingredients**

The four representatives from Food Network sat on one side of the long shiny black conference table, folders and papers spread out in front of each. Edward sat alone opposite them, his hands clasped tightly on the smooth wooden surface. Their scattered thoughts assaulted him.

_He's better than I even thought he would be! I'd totally cheat on my husband with him…he's hot…_

_God Bless America…I want to ravage him right on this table…Right here, in front of Bob…poor Bob…_

_So this is the elusive Chef Cullen. I've heard a lot about this guy's restaurant. Zagat gave it an incredibly high rating…Celebrities love it there…and I can see why the women love it there…_

_I want him. I don't even care if he wins…I want this guy on my network…he's a star…_

Leah Clearwater had been right.

Introductions had been made and handshakes exchanged. When Edward had finally sat down across the table from the panel he now faced, he felt uncomfortable, like he was being put on display, which he was. He had never been studied so intently before, not even when he went before the Volturi. Deep breaths helped him to try and steel his nerves.

"So, Edward, I guess you can already tell that we were very impressed with your audition tape and very interested in you." The gray haired man that Mike had mentioned was speaking. His name was Bob, but that was all that Mike had gotten right. He was no vice president. He was the General Manager of the network. It was immediately apparent to Edward that Bob's opinion carried the most weight among the four, since the other three's thoughts deferred to him. "And that's the reason we called you in. We're already fairly certain that we want you for the show. We just have to cross our t's and dot our i's, as you can understand, being a business man and all. "

"Yes, of course I understand, sir, and I would just like to thank you for your confidence in me." What do you say? What do you say to a network executive who wants you to have your own show on his network? How can you possibly answer when the person who has the final say in the programming of a network wants _you_ to be his new star?

"_If he cooks half as good as he looks..."_

"_Polite to a fault…someone was raised right…"_

"_He has even more charisma in person…"_

"_We don't have any real eye candy for the women on our network. At least, nothing like this…this is sex on a stick…"_

The room felt warm and close and Edward felt increasingly uncomfortable as their thoughts continued their onslaught. He fidgeted in his chair nervously as though he were still human, wishing Leah Clearwater and her graphic, somewhat interesting though pornographic thoughts about riding him like a cowgirl were in the room with him instead.

"No need for you to be so nervous, Edward, although I understand why you would be." Bob's smile was genuine and warm. "Your life as you know it is possibly about to change. Not to mention how the exposure alone that you'll get on this show will be a benefit your bistro in amazing ways."

Bob's thoughts were all over the place, but one thing was apparent to Edward: In Bob's estimation, this was his contest to lose.

"Edward, in your audition tape, you described how food sparked a long forgotten memory for you. Is this what created your passion for food?" This was the long haired woman now. Susie. Her thoughts about him were embarrassing in a way that Leah's thoughts had been amusing, making it hard for Edward to look directly at her. He sat with a slight lopsided smile on his lips, a defense mechanism.

"Yes." He nodded his head. "That was the beginning of it. It was while I was working on perfecting a Beef Bourguignon exactly like my mothers that I realized how much joy cooking brought to me and to those around me."

"How old were you? It's just that you look so young." She smiled at him in that sort of way and twisted at a lock of her already curling hair.

"I was seventeen. I'm much older now, obviously." He forced himself to look directly into her eyes and smile.

"So cooking makes you happy?" Chef Bobby Flay. Edward couldn't help but be humbled to be in his presence, even if Flay didn't have the most charitable thoughts directed toward _Pour l'âme._

"Cooking brings a joy to me that I feel very deeply. It makes me more than happy. It makes my…my soul happy. I only hope that same joy is experienced through my food by anyone who eats it."

_Always the perfect answer…_

Edward smiled to himself. _Foolish mortals…_

"So, Chef Cullen, _does_ your food bring joy?" Flay looked cocky.

"Well, if you judge by my repeat clientele, then I would say yes, Chef Flay." Edward spoke softly, making eye contact with the rival chef. "My customers keep coming back. I like to think this is because my food makes my them very happy."

Flay only nodded in response, smiling slightly.

_Cocky little prick…but I did ask for it…_

_Grace under fire…this kid can handle the pressure…_

_I'd go back just to look at him! Screw the food…_

_Bet he tastes as sweet as he looks and smells…_

"Edward," the fourth person at the table finally spoke. He recognized her from her show on the network. She lived in a house by the sea with her very tall husband and her adorable little daughter. Her name was Giada and she too, was a chef, even though her grandfather was a famous movie producer. "I see that you went to Johnson and Wales. Why there and not, say, the CIA?"

Edward sat back a little in his chair, trying to relax. He knew what she was thinking, that the Culinary Institute of America was more prestigious than his alma mater, but that isn't what was important to him. The experience was what mattered.

"I was actually accepted into the CIA, Chef DeLaurentis. I just felt that, at that time in my life, the experience that I would get at Johnson and Wales was what I needed. I believe that I made the correct choice."

She smiled broadly and nodded at him. "I like your answer." And she really did. From the moment he'd walked into the room, Giada had had nothing but positive thoughts about Edward, thoughts that went beyond how he looked.

"Thank you, Chef DeLaurentis." He smiled back.

"So, Edward, tell us about your show idea. What is your vision?" Bob was smiling and

Edward knew that he loved Mike's idea.

Edward smiled and leaned forward, staring intently back at Bob. "Comfort food, to feed your body…and soul." There was true passion in his voice.

Forty-five minutes later, Edward Cullen stepped out of Chelsea Market and took a deep, cleansing breath. The sky was overcast and the smells of the city engulfed him. He felt the tension lift itself from his body. They had made their decision and it had been unanimous. But they had not told Edward yet. Oh no. Bob would be calling him in the morning to deliver the good news. They could not possibly know that Edward already knew what their decision was.

He pulled out his cell phone as he headed toward the subway.

"Carlisle, I'm heading for Grand Central. I'm on my way." He smiled into the phone as he listened to Carlisle. "Well…what do _you_ think?" He laughed at the response. "Just don't tell Esme. I want to tell her myself!"

Edward took the subway to Grand Central. From there, he took the New Haven line up to Greenwich, taking the very long walk to Esme and Carlisle's house at human speed, taking full advantage of the cloudy autumn day.

Carlisle and Esme were in her greenhouse, a smaller replica of a Victorian style greenhouse that Esme herself had designed and modeled after the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory at the New York Botanical Gardens. The ornate structure was situated out behind the main Cullen house and, while a 'smaller version' of the Conservatory, was almost as big as a house itself.

"I'm here." He called out loud enough for Carlisle to hear him as he approached. "Please tell Mom to button her blouse before I come in." If it was embarrassing for adult human children to find their parents in compromising positions, it was even more embarrassing for vampire children to find their fathers feeling their mothers up in greenhouses out behind the house. Bad enough Edward had to see it through Carlisle's eyes. He didn't want to have to see it in person, too. Esme was, after all, for all intents and purposes, his mother.

He found his father holding on to a rose bush as his mother pressed fresh soil around the roots in a shining new pot.

"Edward! Darling! How did it go?" Esme brushed the dirt off her hands and turned to look at him. He couldn't help but notice that her blue chambray work blouse was buttoned up incorrectly.

"They made their decision." His face burst into a bright crooked smile.

"Oh, Carlisle! Our baby's going to be a tv star! And we're going to Italy!" Esme clapped her hands together as she ran toward Edward, cupping his face in her hands before pulling him down for a kiss.

"Esm~Mom you're going to get me all dirty!"

"Oh Edward, stop being so fussy and for heaven's sake stop fidgeting! Let your mother kiss you!" She peppered his cheeks and nose with quick pecks.

"Carlisle…can…can…you…call…Mom…off…" He struggled against Esme.

"Sweetheart, that's enough now. Edward knows how proud of him you are." Carlisle grinned.

"But darling, it's not every day that my baby becomes a tv star!"

Edward rolled his eyes. "I'm going to be on a show, Mom. I'm not going to be the star. Plus, there's no guarantee I'll win."

_You need to learn to lighten up, Edward. _

"That's easy for you to say," Edward groused as he finally managed to free himself from Esme's grasp, straightening his shirt collar.

"So, tell us! What did they say?" Esme took Edward's hand and led him over to an area where two intricate black wrought iron benches festooned with brightly colored pillows faced each other, a small table between them. She settled down gently on one of the benches and pulled him down with her, still holding his hand tightly in her own. They may have only been in a greenhouse, but it was a _vampire_ greenhouse, complete with all the creature comforts. An ornate Victorian fountain bubbled behind the small seating area, the sound soothing in the warming air. "Did they say what a handsome boy you were and how talented you were and how lucky they were to get you?"

Edward smiled shyly, remembering some of the thoughts he'd encountered. "Well, no, at least not out loud, anyway. They said they liked my tape. Bobby Flay himself has even heard of _Pour l'âme."_

"Oh Edward! I'm so happy for you and so proud! I always knew my baby was amazing! And now other people know you are, too! Soon, the whole world will know!"

Carlisle sat down on the matching bench across from where Edward and Esme sat. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. His posture drew Edward's attention immediately.

"We need to discuss our trip to Volterra." His voice was quiet.

"Oh, I will go make all of our arrangements right now." Esme stood up, finally letting go of Edward's hand. He flexed it slowly, wincing slightly as he did. For such a tiny woman, his mother had extraordinary strength. Esme glided gleefully toward the door, leaving the two men alone in the greenhouse.

The cloudy sky had given way to a mid-afternoon fall sunlight that filtered into the glass building, warming the air inside to the temperature of an early summer day. Neither Edward or Carlisle seemed to notice.

"Should I be worried?" Edward spoke first.

"I don't know. Like we've discussed before, Aro can be a tough character to read." He sat back against the cushion of pillows behind him, his brow creased with thought and worry. "Alice thought there was a good chance Aro would be open to the idea, but you know how her visions are subjective."

"Yes, I do. I've asked her not to use her…gift with regard to any of this, Carlisle. And anyway, there are Caius and Marcus to consider as well."

Carlisle nodded. "Of course. I understand and respect that. Anyway, Marcus is little more than a figure head these days. Personally, I believe that man just sits and awaits death. Prays for it even. Pity. He is but a shell of the man I used to know."

"A lot can happen to a person in three hundred years." Edward shifted and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was anxious to hear what his father's feelings were.

"Very true, although our recent dealings with them have gone fairly smoothly, Caius aside."

"Caius." Edward shook his head. "And people say _I_ have a pole up my butt."

"I will send Aro an email regarding our visit as soon as your mother has the arrangements made."

"Email? Aro's online?"

"Online? He's got an entire website. You should see it. Felix says he's obsessed with it." Carlisle chuckled as he picked up one of the floral pillows next to him, laying it on his lap as he played with the tasseled fringe around the edge.

"You have got to be kidding me. He's…he's what? At least a thousand years old!"

"Old doesn't mean you can no longer learn, Edward. You didn't go to culinary school until you were almost one hundred."

"I didn't mean he was stupid, Carlisle. I just meant that, well…technology. In that damp, cold stone place they live in."

"I understand the entire palace has wifi."

"That's amazing."

"And get this…he's a Mac."

"Really? If I took Aro for anything, I would take him for a PC." Edward snorted.

"So would I." Carlisle snickered. "Felix said he gave everyone iPhone's last St. Marcus day. Drives them nuts with texting and calling."

Edward's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

Carlisle put his right hand over his chest. "Hand to God." Edward knew this was an expression and gesture Carlisle did not take lightly. Lost in the dark world of vampirism for over three hundred years, the one thing that he was certain was responsible for Carlisle's compassion and ability to love was the fact that he had never once lost his faith in his God. The God his father had taught him to love.

"Well, then...can't we just…email him about it?"

"Some things still need to be handled in person, Edward. Something like this? He would just insist we go see him in person to discuss it anyway." He tossed the pillow back to its original spot. "You do realize he's going to want to touch your hand again like he did the last time, right?"

"Yes, I do. I understand his gift. But, I have my own weapon." He tapped his temple with a nimble finger.

Esme skipped back into the greenhouse then.

"All of the arrangements are made! We leave Wednesday and come home Sunday. I do wish we could stay longer, since it's so beautiful in Tuscany this time of year." She sighed. "Oh and Alice and Jasper are on their way over! I told them that you had news, darling, but I didn't say what." She nestled back into her spot next to Edward, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into her, effectively claiming him as her own. She played with his hair as Edward looked helplessly at Carlisle.

"Mom, you do realize Alice already knows, right?"

"Of course I do, darling, but I want you to tell them anyway. Emmett and Rosalie will be over for dinner. You can tell them the news when they get here. They're completely in the dark."

"Dinner?" Carlisle's eyebrow rose.

"I figured we could all go out on a nice family hunt this evening to celebrate." Edward fidgeted out of his mother's grip.

"I'll have to come up with something to tell Mike." He leaned forward again, elbows on his thighs.

Carlisle thought for a moment. "As much as I hate to use this, how about telling him that your uncle in Chicago passed away and we're all going back for the funeral?"

"That would work." Edward nodded. He had long kept up appearances that he had family living in Chicago in order to have an answer to the inevitable questions about extended family…and extended absences.

"That would take care of you being away from the restaurant for a few days, as well as providing a reason for you leaving on such short notice. Tell him tomorrow. Tell him the funeral is Thursday and we'll be returning Sunday night, since we intend to spend some time with the family, of course."

The three sat in a comfortable silence in the warm greenhouse, waiting for Alice and Jasper to arrive.

Not much time had passed before Edward stood and smiled.

"They're here."

Alice burst into the greenhouse, racing toward Edward, arms outstretched.

"My brother's going to be a star!" She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his neck and waist.

Edward hugged her back.

"It's good to see you too, Alice." There was a hint of a giggle in his voice that was only reserved for her. If Alice was happy, he knew only too well that things were going to work out ok with Aro, at least for the time being.

She unwrapped herself from around Edward and hopped to the ground.

"I brought a little congratulatory gift for you from Jasper and I." She held a Little Brown Bag out to him. Bloomingdales.

Edward looked toward Jasper, who rolled his eyes. "I told her you would hate it, but she insisted. By the way, congratulations," his Texas drawl evident on the last word.

"Thanks." Edward took the little bag offered to him and reached in, pulling out a small, thin, square pastel floral box.

He looked at his sister, her lavender eyes flashed happily at him.

"You bought me…makeup?"

"It's Clinique."

"So it says." Edward gave Alice a questioning look.

She took the box from his hand, opening it up and pulling out the slender green compact. "There's a really good powder brush in there as well."

"Well, gee, thanks, Sis. You know I never apply my makeup without a really good powder brush." He looked at Jasper and rolled his eyes. Jasper stifled a laugh.

"Listen to me, Edward. I'm serious here." She popped open the compact, exposing a pale beige disc of powder. "This is called 'Almost Powder'. The color is 'Fair'. It has an SPF 15 in it. You dust your face and neck with this and it essentially neutralizes the sunlight on us."

"Uh…what?" Edward looked at her.

"It lets us go out in the sunlight. Jazz and I are both wearing it right now."

Edward looked at Jasper, disbelief on his face. "You wear…makeup?"

Jasper had plopped down on one of the cushioned benches. "Well…not unless I have to."

"Edward, we all wear it." Carlisle grinned.

"What…" Edward looked confused. "Why…why didn't anyone ever let me know?"

"Because I saw that no matter how I approached you about it, you flipped at the idea and refused to even try it, Edward." Alice pushed him down onto the bench next to Jasper, pulling the fluffy powder brush from the bag.

"Pay close attention to how Alice applies the makeup, sweetie. She's very good and it's just a great idea…just like her idea to wear colored contacts…which you actually _did_ freak out about."

"I didn't freak out, Mom. My eyes are very sensitive."

"He was scared of them." Jasper snorted.

"I was not. They hurt my eyes." Edward's eyes narrowed at his brother.

"Big bad vampire scared of some little contact lenses."

"Shut up, Jazz! I want to show him how to do this right!" Alice sniffed at her spouse.

"Sorry, darlin'."

Edward groaned. "I can't believe I'm letting you do this to me."

"There are going to be times when you'll have to be outdoors, Edward, whether or not the weather is conducive to it."

"How do you know that?"

"I've seen it."

"Alice! I told you specifically not to look for anything that has to do with the contest!"

"I didn't! I block everything about it! I meant that I've seen the show, Edward, not your future on the show." She looked at Esme when she said it and shared a conspiratorially smile.

"What? What are you two hiding from me?"

"Oh, Edward. You're always so paranoid. We aren't hiding anything from you. For heavens sakes, you, the mind reader, should know this! Now, just sit still and let Alice show you how to apply the makeup. It's very easy." Esme smiled warmly at him.

She was right. Alice was very good at blocking him from reading her mind, but Esme was always an open book to him. There would be no way she could hide something she knew from him.

"Ok, so here's what you do." She ran the brush over the makeup lightly. "Get some on the brush and apply like this." She quickly dabbed the brush over his face, making sure to cover it completely. "Lift your head up like this." She bent her head back so her neck was exposed. Edward complied. "It's really easy, Edward. And the minute it's going to take you to do this? Well, the benefits far outweigh the little bit of nuisance you think this is. There. All done."

Edward slowly moved his head upright again and opened his eyes. Alice was holding the open compact out to him.

"Go ahead. Look in the mirror."

He took the compact from her and looked. He couldn't even tell that he was wearing makeup.

"I don't see anything."

"That's because it's rather sheer."

"Then how does this stop us from sparkling? Won't the sun cut through it?"

"It's the SPF in it that does it, actually." Carlisle had his arm wrapped around Esme's shoulder.

"Then why don't we just wear sunblock?"

"I tried that. The sunblock is a cream. Because our skin isn't porous like a human's is, it doesn't absorb. It just sits there on the surface looking greasy." She shuddered at the memory.

"Oh." That was all Edward could muster.

"Go ahead. Step outside into the sun." Esme urged him.

He got up and walked toward the door, looking back at his family, certain that he was once again the victim of an elaborate family prank. Emmett and Rosalie were probably hiding outside, waiting to laugh at his humiliation.

Edward turned the doorknob and shook his head as he stepped outside into the sunlight. Even though he couldn't hear any thoughts from Emmett or Rosalie, he still looked around quickly for them. But they weren't anywhere to be found.

Taking a deep breath, he stood in the sunlight and held the compact mirror up to his face. He peered into it. The only thing sparkling was the sunlight reflecting off the mirror.

For the first time in over one hundred years, Edward Cullen was not sparking in the sunlight.


	5. Chapter 5: In a Separate Bowl

******_Yes...I know. It's been a while. But here is the next installment of Pour L'ame. I hope that you enjoy it._**

**_Just a reminder that this story is OOC~there are going to be some characters who's actions will leave you thinking "Hmm...that didn't happen in the books" and you'll meet a couple of them here ;)_**

**_SO let's get on with it:_**

**_Twilight, its characters and situations belong to the ever charming and patient Stephenie Meyer. I'm just digging in her sandbox for a bit._**

**_Enjoy~_**

* * *

**Chapter 5: In a Separate Bowl...**

The seven Cullen's sat in a stylish waiting area much like the one Edward had waited in at Food Network. Sleek modern leather sofa's sat opposite one another, a glass and wood coffee table stacked with magazines between them. Muzak wafted softly around the room. To the uninitiated, this could have been any lobby in any office building in any major city in the world. But the Cullen's knew otherwise.

Edward sat on one buttery soft taupe sofa between Carlisle and Esme, the perpetual problem child in a protective parental sandwich.

Alice sat on the sofa across from them, tucked comfortably between Jasper and Rosalie. She sat with her legs crossed, flipping through _Italian Vogue_, the stiletto heeled foot of her crossed leg bobbing up and down as the shiny patent leather pump reflected the light like a disco ball.

"Darlin', stop. You're making Edward nervous." Jasper drawled as he placed his hand on her knee gently.

"Oh, sorry Edward." Alice smiled shyly across the gap between them.

"It's ok Alice. Jasper, knock it off." Edward tried not to sound annoyed.

"What? I'm just trying to help you."

"Making me sleepy isn't going to help me." He fidgeted. He had been fidgeting a lot since that phone call from Food Network.

"Edward, please. You fidget like a twelve year old boy in church these days." Esme looped her arm around his, and twisted her fingers through his hand, placing their entwined hands on her leg.

"I thought the expression was like a five dollar whore in church?" Emmett smirked. "We all know that ain't Edward."

Edward flipped Emmett off with his free hand.

"It's ok, sweetie." Esme soothed him. "Emmett's just having what Rose calls a big oaf moment. And Jasper, stop altering the mood."

"Ok, Mom."

"Mom! Here it is! This is that Monique Lhuillier wedding gown I told you about!"

Alice hopped off the sofa and knelt down in front of Esme, the two huddled over the magazine. It had long been accepted that Alice was indeed the family fashionista, setting out wardrobes for each family member and chastising them for poor fashion choices. Alice was not above nagging when it came to how her family dressed.

"Oh my! You are right! Rosalie, this is the perfect gown for you!"

Rosalie looked up from her Kindle and brushed her long blonde hair behind her ear.

"What?"

"For your upcoming wedding, dear! This dress is perfect!"

Edward and Carlisle exchanged glances. This wasn't the first wedding Rosalie would have. Nor would it be the last. Every couple of decades, she and Emmett renewed their vows at a lavish affair. The time for another ceremony was quickly approaching.

"Of course we'll have to wait until our Edward is quite finished with his television show, since he'll be catering the affair, but I was thinking of a Christmas wedding this time. I can see a tent out behind the house, heated of course, for the human guests. We can somehow connect it into the greenhouse, and have the ceremony in there, amid the roses and orchids. What do you think, Rose?"

"Sure." Rosalie was looking back down at her Kindle, ignoring her mother and sister.

Emmett sat in the lone chair, a plush brown leather monstrosity, playing Angry Birds on his phone, completely engrossed and ignoring the wedding conversation going on around him.

Edward glanced at the human receptionist sitting at the large desk. Behind her, a pair of elaborately carved doors led the way to Aro and his brothers.

"Alice." He leaned forward and spoke low and quick, so that only his sister could hear him.

She looked up.

"How much longer are they going to make us wait?"

Alice closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, she shook her head and shrugged.

_I can't tell. Aren't you getting anything from Gianna's head?_

"The only thing in that bimbo's head is that guy from The Vampire Diaries."

_Which one? The one that was on LOST? Boone?_

"Is he Damon?"

She nodded.

"Yeah, him."

"Oooooo."

Edward rolled his eyes and Jasper snorted.

Carlisle sat with his head back and his eyes closed. To any average person, he would have appeared to have fallen asleep, except that vampires don't sleep. Ever.

_How are you doing?_ Carlisle's concern for Edward had been evident every step of the way since he had found out about the tv show.

Edward looked at his father and nodded. How could he be doing? He was nervous as hell and terrified for his family. If Aro was in a bad mood, things could go horribly wrong instantly, and not just for him. If anything happened to any member of his family, he knew he would be to blame.

The phone on the desk buzzed. Gianna picked it up and listened for a moment before standing up and walking around the desk.

"Don Aro will see you now, Signore Cullen." Her English was stilted, her accent thick. She was small and frail and Edward knew from her mind that she was completely obsessed with vampires and becoming one.

The family stood and followed behind Gianna, who opened the giant carved doors behind her desk and led them through.

_Don Aro? What is this? The Godfather?_ Emmett mentally guffawed as he smirked. Edward tried not to laugh as Rosalie, who couldn't read minds but knew how her husband's worked, smacked him in the back of his head.

"Get that smirk off your face right now, dipshit." She growled at him. His dimples fell.

Gianna led them down a generic beige corporate hallway with harsh lighting and to an ancient gold gilded door. The door opened slowly and a giant vampire in a well tailored black Armani suit stood just inside the threshold. They could tell it was Armani, as the tag on the cuff had not been removed.

"I will take them from here, Signora." His voice was deep and his accent foreign.

"Grazie." She gazed up at him through hooded eyes.

"Che sono i benvenuti."

She gently tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket and pointed at the label. "Ti sei dimenticato di rimouvere l'etichetta, mia cara."

A warm smile appeared on the vampires face, softening its stern lines. "Grazie."

A look passed between the large vampire and the slight human girl and Edward knew. Felix was in love with Gianna, and the human girl felt quite the same. He glanced at Alice who was reciting the Bill of Rights in her head. Obviously, she had seen something she didn't want him to know.

The vampire family followed Felix and his designer suit through a series of long and narrow ancient stone corridors, which Carlisle was more than familiar with.

"So, Dr. Cullen, how have you been? We have not seen you for a few years."

"Yes. The last time we were here was when Edward was opening the restaurant. We're all doing well, Felix. Thank you for asking. And you?"

"Ah yes, Mister Edward's restaurant. Is this going well?" Felix turned and glanced back at Edward, ignoring Carlisle's question.

"It is, Felix. It's going very well."

"This is good to hear. Don Aro will be pleased at this news. He was very excited for you, Mister Edward."

A buzzing echoed off the stone corridor and Felix sighed, pulling an iPhone from his pocket.

"Si?" He listened for a moment and nodded. "Si, we are almost there, Master." He pocketed the phone. "Don Aro is impatient to see his old friend, Dr. Cullen, and his lovely wife Signora Esme."

"Oh, how nice of him. Isn't that nice, dear?" Esme held tightly to Carlisle's arm with one hand, Edward's hand with the other, the easy smile on her face belying the tension beneath the surface.

"Yes, it's very nice, dear." Carlisle's lips were tight. He didn't fully trust his old friend Aro. He never had.

The group turned down a new corridor that wound around in a spiral fashion, floor slanting ever so slightly downward. The light grew dim, but to their sharp vampire vision, this made no difference.

Finally, at the end the final curve, a large golden door shimmered ahead of them. The door, made of solid gold, marked the entrance to Aro's lair, the vampire version of a true monarch's throne room.

Felix pushed open the heavy door with no effort, and stepped inside, allowing the Cullens to enter.

The family stood huddled together just inside the doorway in stunned silence.

In the six years since their last visit to Voltera, things had indeed changed.

The usually quiet stone room brimmed with activity. Under high stained glass windows, two female vampires sat on a plush plum colored velvet settee, each engrossed in their own iPads, while more vampires milled about the room, either talking on iPhones or texting or playing games. Some wore headphones and earbuds, heads bopping in time to melodies only they could hear. Hanging high on the curved stone walls, circling the room, were giant plasma screen tvs, each broadcasting a different network. The space where Aro and his brother's trio of thrones had stood for centuries was now occupied by three ornately carved desks, each holding a cacophony of glowing and buzzing computer equipment. All Apple products, of course.

Aro was positioned behind the middle desk, engrossed in the huge screen of the iMac that sat on the right hand side of his massive desk.

"My dearest Carlisle." He called from behind the computer without looking at the Cullens. "Welcome to Voltera." He stood and walked around the desk, his brother Ciaus watching his movements from behind his own desk, his crimson eyes slits. Marcus, for his part, appeared to be asleep in his plush chair.

"Thank you for seeing us, Aro." Carlisle moved forward to greet his old friend, and was taken by surprise when Aro embraced him. Even more surprising was Aro's attire. Gone was his usual black suit, similar to what Felix was wearing. In its place, the ancient vampire wore a pair of jeans, brown tassel loafers and a blue button down long sleeved shirt. His long, black hair was slicked back into a neat pony tail tied at the nape of his neck with a black hair band.

"It has been far too long, my friend. Far too long."

"Y-yes…it has, Aro."

"And your lovely wife is here with you." Aro moved toward Esme, who still stood next to Edward, her grip on his hand vice like. "My dearest Esme!" The vampire king embraced the surprised Esme and kissed each cheek quickly. "You get more beautiful each time I see you! I am certain Carlisle is the reason." He smiled a sick grimace of a smile.

"Thank you, Aro." If Esme was flustered by Aro's actions, she didn't show it. "Yes, Carlisle and I are quite happy and content."

"I am thrilled to hear this." Aro nodded his approval as he moved to Emmett and Rosalie, both of who looked at him with suspicious eyes.

"Yes, the stunning Rosalie and her…what is it the kids call it these days? Ah…yes…her _hunk_, Emmett."

Emmett smirked at Aro's comment, but Rosalie simply glared at him. "I believe the word you were looking for is _husband_, Aro."

Aro looked surprised. "Did I misunderstand? Does this word _hunk _not mean a handsome man?"

"I think you got it right the first time, Aro." Emmett's dimples rose as he smiled broadly.

"Yes, this is as I thought." Aro smiled at Emmett. "You must excuse my ignorance. I am only now becoming acquainted with these modern times." He waved his arm around the room, showcasing the massive amount of technology present in it. "While we were busy with the technical aspect of this…this…upgrade…I am afraid that we neglected upgrading ourselves. Until now, that is. We all have bookmarked, Dude." He smiled, proud at his use of modern slang.

Edward shifted his weight nervously from one foot to another, until Esme squeezed his hand tightly. Aro's uncharacteristic behavior was making everyone uneasy, but Edward alone could see that Aro was indeed sincere with his attempt to take Voltera into the twenty first century.

"And how can we forget our empath and our soothsayer. It is a pleasure to see the both of your again, Jasper and Alice." Aro's hand reached out to touch Alice, but he pulled it back at the last moment.

"Which leaves us with the reason for this pleasurable little reunion. Our beloved Edward." Aro moved quickly, stopping in front of Edward, and held out his hand. Silently, Edward swallowed and took his hand. Aro closed his eyes as Edward's every thought over the last century passed through his eyes. "Ah…yes…Oh…oh yes! Yes! This is…this is…unprecedented! It is…" Aro opened his eyes and stared directly into Edward's. "Wonderful!"

He turned on his heel and faced the trio of desks. "Brothers! Our young friend Edward has been offered an irresistible and exciting opportunity and is here to receive our blessings!"

"What is it, brother? Spit it out, man." Caius' voice held an edge of annoyance at Aro's theatrics. Marcus picked up his head and looked from Caius to Aro with a detached interest.

"Dearest Edward has been offered the opportunity to compete to be the Next Food Network Star!" Aro clapped his hands together for emphasis like an amused child. "Is this not wonderful news!"

"Impossible. The answer is no." Caius was back to staring at one of four iMacs and MacBook Pros on his desk.

"Oh, brother, tsk, tsk." Aro shook his finger in front of him, and approached Caius' desk. "I do not believe this to be the correct answer."

"Fine. Kill them all." Caius did not move his eyes away from his computer screen, but his tone gave away his detachment from the issue.

"Oh for the love of all that is holy, both of you please end this incessant nonsense now."

Jaws dropped as gasps were heard. All eyes turned to Marcus as he rose slowly from his chair.

"Brother?" Aro's highly arched eyebrows arched even higher.

"Aro, you know Caius' answer to every request, and yet, the two of you continue this ridiculous charade, not taking the feelings of any of those who come to us with their requests into consideration." He stepped around the desk and approached Aro slowly, like the ancient being he was. "This is, in this day and age, extremely rude."

All eyes in the room were on Marcus, dressed in unassuming khakis with a green plaid shirt instead of his usual dark robes, as every vampire held their breath, not that they needed to breathe.

"Carlisle is one of our oldest and dearest friends. His beloved son, his sire, is asking permission to participate in something that will bring him a great amount of joy. The boy loves to cook human food. Whatever it is that drives him, as bizarre as we perceive his obsession to be, this is his passion, his calling, his chosen path. And we are well aware of it." He paused and leveled a look at Caius, who glared at him from between two iMacs. "We are also aware that Caius will be against any such undertakings. Yet...here we are." He raised his hands upward. "Why do we go through this every time?" He shook his head.

"Brother," Aro approached him, anger flaring in his eyes. He didn't like being shown up by anyone, let alone his long demoralized brother. "This is our way. This has always been our way."

"We have discussed this at length, brother. Our way needs to be changed. You have computerized us. Put Voltera on the world wide web. You have put these rectangles of information and communication in all of our pockets and pelted us with angry birds. You have insisted that, for the survival of our kind, it is imperative that we ourselves move into the new millennium. Still, you play with our own kind, like they are your personal toys." He shook his head.

"Brother? What is it that you are saying?" Aro looked hurt.

"I'm saying give the boy his answer! You know what you are going to tell him. I've received six emails and four text messages about your answer in the last fifteen minutes! You tweeted about it incessantly all night! The boy wants permission to be on a television show his best friend…a human boy…suggested him for. He is earnest and honest. His father is noble. His mother is kind and loving. His brothers and sisters are loyal to a fault. This family does not deserve to be the pawns in your sick games. Give him his answer and stop playing with them. Let them go back to their lives, however mundane you may find them."

Aro looked down at the cold, stone floor, shamed.

When he looked up, his face had changed.

"My brother has shamed me." His voice was low. "He has shamed me, because he is correct."

He sighed, and stood directly in front of Carlisle. "I beg you accept my ardent apologies, my friend. I have done you and your family a grave disservice."

"No need to apologize, Aro." Carlisle was cautious, fearing this one of Aro's tricks intended to catch them off guard. He glanced at Edward, but Edward's face was blank. Aro was somehow blocking Edward out.

"No, no. My brother is absolutely right. I am guilty of what he says. He has been teaching me…humility." Aro wore a guilty look on his ashen face. "And while my brother Caius will never make a similar admission, I do not need for him to. I know far better than he does." Caius' face contorted as Aro spoke.

He turned abruptly and stood in front of a wide eyed Edward.

"Mind reader," Aro closed his eyes. "You know what the answer is. My child…go! Be on this television show! I promise, we will all be watching!" He motioned toward the giant screens on the walls, a wide grin on his face.

"Th..thank you?" Edward could see in Aro's mind that the old vampire was happy…genuinely happy for him. Excited, even. "Um…thanks?"

"My boy!" Aro threw his arms around a stiffened Edward and hugged him tightly. "You are my beloved friend Carlise's most beloved son. It is because of this that I wish nothing but the best that the world has to offer for you, child."

"Thank you, Aro." Edward whispered back.

"So…that's it?" Emmett spoke loudly.

"Emmett? Yes…that is it. What more were you hoping for?" Aro moved toward Emmett.

"Well…usually, you know, we think maybe there's gonna be a fight or something." Emmet looked confused as he scratched the back of his neck absently.

"My dear Emmett…this is the twenty first century. Surely we are beyond fisticuffs at this point."

"Oh."

"You sound…disappointed?"

"Well…"

Rosalie smacked him in the stomach. "Knock it off, you giant oaf, before you get someone killed."

"Aro, thank you. This means so much to my family." Carlisle smiled and put his hand on Edward's shoulder.

"My Carlisle, you are very welcome. However, I would like to ask your permission to speak with young Alice."

Alice narrowed her eyes.

"Well, you'll have to ask Alice, Aro."

"Ah yes, a modern family. Excuse my old ways." He stepped slowly toward Alice.

"Yes, Aro?"

"My dear clairvoyant…I…I need to know. Does our Edward…win?" Aro put his hands together as though in prayer, begging for an answer.

"I'm sorry, Aro." Alice's voice was soft. "But my brother has forbidden me to look for the outcome of the competition."

"Is this right? Is our Edward so upstanding and honest that he is above this?"

She smiled. "Yes, he is. My brother is one of the most amazing people you will ever meet."

"I admire you, child. I admire all of you."

She smiled and curtsied quickly, causing Aro to laugh heartily.

Marcus approached the spot where Esme was hugging Edward.

"Darling Esme." He nodded to her. "It has been too long." He held out his hand, and Esme took it, smiling. He lifted her slender fingers to his lips, kissing her hand lightly. "Your joy for your son is infectious." The morose old vampire smiled, his face seemingly changed.

"Thank you, Marcus. Thank you for everything."

Marcus nodded at her and turned to Edward.

"My child," he reached up, touching Edward's strongly chiseled jaw lightly. "Do not waste this chance. Do not take anything for granted. Make the most of this opportunity. Keep your mind and your heart open."

Edward looked at the changed enigma, confused.

"Young man, you have caused great changes in me. My heart was dead…until I felt yours six years ago. Whether you believe it or not, and I know that you do not, there is a life force within you. There is a pulsation of goodness and energy that springs forth from you. It moves beyond your nature. It comes from your very soul."

Carlisle joined them then.

"Marcus, you know how Edward feels about that."

Marcus looked at Carlisle. "He is wrong, my friend. Very wrong. Our Edward is ruled by his heart and his soul." He looked back at Edward. "Good things will come to you, Edward."

Carlisle looked at Marcus. "What…what's happened to you?"

Marcus smiled back. "I've found my heart, Carlisle."


End file.
